Welcome Rimas Dissolutas


I introduce myself
As though we never met
Surprised you play along

You smile and name yourself
Who’ll give in first? Who’ll let
The other right what’s wrong?

We think we won’t forget
But love is not that strong


After having no luck yesterday, I almost gave up on finding a form today. I figured I could either take the month off (always my first choice) or just go back to writing whatever the hell comes out on any given day. I had been planning, half-heartedly, to do just that, to let June be formless. I was okay with the idea when it was part of a plan, as the halfway point in this year-long challenge, to see if having stuck with a form each month had made any difference in how I approached writing without that structure. That’s not the mindset I had, though, once I found myself here in June. I was floundering again, just as I have every month, so giving up on forms felt more like a failure than a plan.

I spent yesterday pouring through Turco’s The New Book of Forms, trying to settle on something: ballade, interlocking rubaiyat, madrigal, roundelay. All of them made me feel drained. I didn’t have the energy to write twenty-eight lines of anything. I didn’t want to think about rhymes and refrains. I thought that prose poems might be the way to go, but after reading Dawn Song by Wesli Court (the example given in this book), I wouldn’t dare. I wish I had the words to write like that, but I’m feeling like a wrung-out sponge. If I were to keep writing, I’d have to find something else.

Enter the rimas dissolutas. I hadn’t paid much attention to this one until a post on Writer’s Digest reminded me of it. There’s no set line length, meter, or stanza length. An envoi is accepted, but not required. In other words, there’s room to play. Still some structure, but relaxed enough that I could ease into it with something short if that’s all I had in me.

And that’s all I had in me.